


one more time

by Glyphhunter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glyphhunter/pseuds/Glyphhunter
Summary: He'll remember later, while his mother sits next to him and the drug haze isn't as strong, that he's seen this all before.“You're like starlight,” Keith says. It comes out in a whisper, like a secret only for their ears. Shiro blinks, lips parting in surprise. Keith reaches out, runs his thumb under the edge of Shiro’s scar as he cups his face.He’s here. Warm.Alive.





	one more time

**Author's Note:**

> Some good ol' post season fluff, what can I say?

It almost feels like an accident how everything falls into place. In the months between Sendak’s defeat, the Coalition's slow arrival, and the recovery efforts, the fact that Haggar is still at large feels secondary. An afterthought. It’s like someone pressed pause on the war.

It occurs to Keith that this is probably what the rescued planets felt like in the early days of the Coalition. They’re aware that the Galra are still out there. They know that someone is fighting them head on. But when days are spent picking up the pieces in the aftermath with no Galra in sight, priorities start to shift. Life goes on. 

Frustratingly, Keith isn’t aware for most of it.

They're still recovering. Himself, his team, the planet. More days than not, he’s confined to his bed with only the rare day, like today, for reprieve. He moves, against the nurses’ wishes usually, if only for the change of scenery. He can only take staring at the same four walls for so long.

He ends up wherever Shiro happens to be, be it the bridge of the Atlas, the Garrison grounds, or anywhere in between. And he's always with someone, Iverson and Veronica, James and his team, and their own team, spread out as they are. Keith doesn't know if it's luck or design that he finds Shiro alone this time. 

The location might have something to do with it, outside on the surface of the Atlas. It's secluded enough and people generally aren't inclined to linger on the surface of a warship. Of course, the only reason Keith found Shiro at all is because of Pidge.

Shiro's sitting out in the open with the sky stretching wide and endless above him. The light of the setting sun, just barely on the edge of the horizon, washes over him. It highlights the white of his hair, almost making it shine on its own, and Keith's heart skips a beat at the sight. Warmth fills his chest and rises heavy in his throat.

He almost didn't have this. 

Wind rushes over them, lifts Keith's hair from his face, and cuts under the hem of the faded red sweater someone unearthed from somewhere. It already carries the biting cold of night and Keith crosses his arms against it. Shiro looks unbothered. 

He steps carefully, but not silently. Shiro notices him approaching, acknowledging his presence with only a glance before looking back to the sunset. Keith comes up beside him, giving his new arm a playful bump as he settles, and breathes. 

They sit together and watch as the shadows grow longer and deeper. The stars slowly emerge from the fading pinks and reds, and if Shiro's breath sounds wet, Keith doesn't say anything about it. He knows. They’ve all had that moment, the thought that they’d never see this again. There are countless sunsets all across the universe but nothing compares to home. 

He stares at Shiro unabashed, arms crossed on his raised knees. He watches the way his eyes, wide and bright, flick from one familiar constellation to the next as they appear. He sees the faint upturn of his lips slowly grow into a smile that takes over his entire being, and Keith is happy. He’s glad that, for all the horrors Shiro has seen in those stars, he can still find joy in them. 

The Galra tried to break him utterly, and failed. 

The play of light over Shiro is gentle as the sun drops further. His hair captures it perfectly, reds and golds sliding into blues and violets. Keith can see the stars in his eyes. There are tears pooling in the corners. Too much emotion, whatever kind it may be, and it only makes the stars brighter.

Night falls on them almost too soon.

“Amazing,” Shiro breathes after all traces of the sun have left and the moon has started to rise behind them. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears that cling to his lashes, and his hand, human and soft, rises to catch them when that fails.

“Yeah.” Keith is already smiling against the sleeve of his sweater and it doesn't waver when Shiro looks over. Red blooms on his cheeks, spreading over his ears and what Keith can see of his neck and he knows it extends down to his chest.

“The sunset, not me,” he says, like he's somehow less worthy of sharing the label. Surprisingly, Shiro’s voice doesn't waver despite the red growing deeper. Keith didn't think his heart could grow any fonder.

“I saw it,” he says. He saw every colour and every star as they appeared. So what if Shiro happened to be the canvas they fell on. If anything, he made it better. 

The exasperated pout Shiro gives him tells him exactly what he thinks of that. The look doesn't last long though, sliding quickly into a fond smile as he laughs and shakes his head. The red eases but doesn’t leave completely, a healthy glow that's beautiful in the moonlight. He's still shining. 

He looks…  

“You're like starlight,” Keith says. It comes out in a whisper, like a secret only for their ears. Shiro blinks, lips parting in surprise. Keith reaches out, runs his thumb under the edge of Shiro’s scar as he cups his face. 

He’s here. Warm.

Alive. 

His heart skips a beat as he feels the slightest pressure in return. “Beautiful,” he breathes. He feels Shiro’s throat work against the side of his hand, sees the way his eyes flicker as he loses himself for only a moment. 

“I'm beautiful.” The tone is questioning. There's an edge of disbelief that strikes a chord in Keith’s chest. He smiles through it, shifting his touch into a hold. 

“Always,” he says and he'll pride himself later on the fact that his voice doesn't break. Shiro takes a deep breath and the shine comes back to his eyes. He looks like he wants to fight it, to break it down and justify why he isn’t, even if he might’ve been once. There are many things that haunt him now, that haunt them both, and Keith knows.

He knows it’s going to take more than a simple conversation under the stars for them to heal. The scar still pulls on bad days. It always will. 

He sees the glance towards it, the tightening around Shiro’s eyes. He feels the breath he releases, slow and wavering. Keith lets his hand slide down to rest against Shiro’s neck. He can feel his pulse beat steady under his thumb. His own heart feels loud in his chest. A reminder that both of them are here. Both of them are alive. They made it.

“I love you,” he says, as gentle as the turn of the Earth itself. Shiro’s eyes meet his, grey turned silver, lit bright by the moon and the stars. His lips twitch, like he wants to speak but his breath is stuck. 

The words are familiar, spoken in distress and demonstrated beyond that, but Shiro looks like he’s waiting for something else. A second part he shouldn’t hope beyond. 

Keith shifts, shortens the distance between them so their shared warmth wards off the night chill. A twinge along his back tells him the painkillers are wearing off. It almost feels too soon, like he should have hours left, but that’s the way it’s been lately. Keith can hold out for a little while yet.

Shiro moves easily, leaning into him more than anything else and that tells Keith far more than any words could say. He brings his other hand up and holds Shiro between them as their foreheads press together. Shiro’s eyes close, thick lashes wet, and Keith doesn’t even think before he’s wiping away the moisture. 

He says it again, a promise in the scant space between them. He feels Shiro nod, feels the breath he takes like it’s his own. Shiro’s hand is a brand when it comes to rest on his hip, heat soaking through the thin cotton of the hospital garb easily. 

Keith’s doesn't need to say anything else. The almost desperate hold is enough.

He despairs when the shaking starts. Shiro notices it immediately, a tremble in his hands that tells him his time is running out. Shiro sighs into the space between them and the moment fades with it. 

“Let's get you back,” he murmurs. His right hand comes up between them, takes Keith's entire wrist in his palm as they separate.

“I’m fine,” he says, even as he feels the headache building. It's a lie, they both know it. For the sake of propriety more than anything, even if they're the only ones out here. Shiro laughs quietly in his ear.

“You're about to pass out.” The truth. Keith matches Shiro’s crooked smile with his own and lets himself be gathered up. Shiro helps him to his feet and he grits his teeth as the bone deep ache flares all at once. 

The nurses aren't going to be happy with him. Probably aren't already. He’s been gone for a while at this point. 

Shiro is solid at his side as they head back, a warm line from shoulder to hip. His thumb is a welcome distraction against Keith's waist, having slipped under the hem of his sweater and never removed. It stays steady through every step, constant and reassuring.

‘We're okay,’ it says as Shiro brings them inside. 

Keith closes his eyes in the lift, the lights too harsh for the headache spreading across his temples. Shiro’s head turns and his lips press to the crown of Keith's in a kiss. 

‘I love you, too,’ it says, even if he can't say it himself yet. 

Keith hums, weak fingers gripping what he can of Shiro. He gets a handful of his uniform and doesn't let go until he's being lowered on a grudgingly familiar bed. There's murmuring on his peripheral, someone tutting off to the side. Shiro’s warm tones keep him from focusing on it too much, a gentle cadence in his ear.

“I love you,” Keith says, uncaring when the voices lull. He swipes the air towards where he last heard Shiro’s voice and is rewarded when familiar fingers grasp his. “Shiro,” he insists, gripping as tight as he can, “I love you.”

There's choked laughter somewhere. Not Shiro’s. Shiro’s breath washes over his knuckles before a kiss is pressed to them too.

“I know,” he says, voice thick with  _ something. _ Keith's hand is brought closer, held by two hands now, and there's the scrape of a chair against the linoleum. “I know,” Shiro says again, closer this time. Quieter. 

Keith frowns. He fights against the exhaustion keeping his eyes closed and blinks blearily at Shiro now leaning against his bed. His shine is muted now, the moon at the wrong angle to come through his window, but the hall light behind him gives him a halo and for now that's close enough.

He meets Shiro’s eyes as steadily as he can.

“Always,” he promises. He gives their joined hands a shake. Keith can hear Shiro’s throat click as he swallows. 

“I know.” He leans closer, removes one hand to run it through Keith's hair, and Keith lets his eyes fall closed again. “Sleep,” Shiro coaxes, and Keith doesn't need much obey. He's already drifting when Shiro speaks again. “Your mother will be here in the morning.”


End file.
